


The Way It's Always Been

by DianaSolaris



Category: The Road to El Dorado (2000)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, First Meetings, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Rough Sex, Small Fandom Fest, The OT3 is minor and at the end, as well as all tulio/chel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 14:48:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15145481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DianaSolaris/pseuds/DianaSolaris
Summary: Five times Tulio and Miguel kissed, and one time Tulio admits that it's always been this way.For the Small Fandom Fest!





	The Way It's Always Been

~1~   
  
               The first time that Tulio meets Miguel, it’s with a broom raised over his head ready to clobber whatever it is that’s been stealing their chicken eggs, and absolutely no idea how to react to the tiny blond kid in front of him.

                “I –“ Tulio can’t quite figure out whether he’s supposed to clobber the boy or not. Egg thieves are _bad –_ he’s heard his dad complain about them enough. But he’s staring up at Tulio with such wide blue eyes that actually hitting him or getting him trouble feels, well, mean. Especially with how skinny the guy is.

                “…You better be taking those cause you need them,” Tulio grouches, putting the broom down.

                The boy’s eyes brighten, and he gives Tulio a lazy salute before pocketing the last of the six he’s stolen.

                “I’m still telling my dad, though. Maybe he can help you.“ Tulio turns to yell back towards the house, and suddenly hands grab him, distracting him and turning his eyes back to the boy –

                -just in time for the younger boy’s lips to cover his own.

                What.

                In.

                Tarnation.

                By the time Tulio’s come to his sense enough to break the kiss (and to stop the instinctual urge to kiss him back; homeless egg-thieves aren’t supposed to make his head swim like that) and pick up the broom again to threaten him, the rascal’s gone.

                Tulio sighs and absent-mindedly touches his lips. Well, it _worked._ Bloody thieves.  
  


~2~

                It’s not until a good three years later, just after his nineteenth birthday as he’s wandering down to the docks looking for work, that he even remembers the incident. Mostly because he hears a strumming, a beautiful minstrel voice singing about adventure on the high seas, and turns to look.

                And what do you know? It’s the egg-thief himself, strumming away on a lute and attracting _quite_ a crowd.

                Tulio tries to be pissed. He really does. Instead, he joins the crowd and stands there, tapping his foot and waiting for the man to look at him. Besides, maybe he’s wrong. Maybe he just _looks_ an awful lot like the thief who happened to kiss him as a distraction to get away, not that Tulio has been thinking about that a lot or anything –

                The minstrel opens his eyes at the end of a verse, and his gaze lands on Tulio, and the song stops dead with a twang of a string. “…H-hello! Did you want something?”

                “I want my damn eggs,” Tulio retorts. So much for doubt.

                “I. Well.” The minstrel shrugs. “I don’t have any pockets. Will you take an IOU?”

                Tulio just frowns at him, seething under his bandana. Then he grabs for the hat on the ground in front of the minstrel, pulling it back.

                “H-hey! That’s mine!’

                “Consider it payment for the eggs.”

                The minstrel hops off the wall, and tries to grab for the hat – Tulio dodges out of the way, but then the minstrel jumps straight on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

                “Hey! Break it up!”

                Tulio glances up at the guards, is about to say something – and then he’s getting kissed. Again. Then the minstrel gets to his feet and runs off.

                _With_ the hat.

                Hell no.

 

~3~

                The minstrel doesn’t make it far, mostly because this time, Tulio has a horse. He cuts him off a few streets away.

                “Youuuu,” Tulio snarls.

                The minstrel smiles innocently. “Kiss you once, shame on me, kiss you twice, shame on you?”

                “That’s not how that works!”

                “I’ll pay for the eggs once I have some actual food.”

                Tulio groans, then groans again. Decisions. Decisions are stupid. And it hasn’t escaped his notice that the minstrel looks like he really, _really_ needs to eat. “…Or, you can tell me your name, and we’ll go get a drink and a meal. How’s that?”

                “Is this a trap?”

                “Do I look like an asshole?”

                “Depends on the lighting.”

                “I could also run you over with my horse.”

                “I’ll take the drink and the meal.”

                Tulio gets off of his horse and leads him along the alley. The minstrel is a little shorter than him, still obnoxiously blonde, with a little snub nose. “I’m Tulio.”

                “Miguel.”

                “Miguel. Nice to put a name to the face.”

                “I can’t believe you _remembered._ ”

                “You’re hard to forget.” It’s only after the broad smile spreads over Miguel’s face that Tulio realizes how that sounded, and he blushes and does his best to ignore it.

                It’s only about – oh, six or seven drinks later – they’re outside, and Miguel’s lips aren’t on his but at his neck instead, hands under his shirt and knee in between Tulio’s legs, that Tulio starts to wonder _why_ a kiss could distract him so much. But he’s not worried about that right now, not when Miguel is getting to his knees and looking up at him with eyes so blue and bright that they look like the sky fell into them.

                “Fuck,” Tulio whispers.

                “Not yet,” Miguel teases. “But dinner still gets you a treat.” And when he takes Tulio’s cock into his mouth, humming gently and with the _most_ fucking self-satisfied look on his face possible, Tulio wonders what there was worth getting mad about after all.

 

~4~

                The road to El Dorado is full of wonders – and, apparently, leeches. It’s been three days since That Incident and Tulio is still sore.

                “Look on the bright side, Tulio! If we’ve run into this much trouble, karma is _bound_ to-“

                “Stop talking,” Tulio moans. “And keep rubbing.”

                Miguel works his thumbs into the sore muscles of Tulio’s back. Then he asks, “So what do you think we’ll do when we go back to Spain?”

                “What do you mean?”

                “I mean… this is an adventure. And I like adventures.” There’s a soft laugh. “But maybe, I don’t know. One day we could settle down. Get a farm or something.” There’s an unspoken _something_ there, and Tulio can’t help but be afraid of it.

                “I don’t know. I imagine you’ll find a girl at some point.”

                “…Really? You think I will?”

                Tulio tries not to hear the disappointment in Miguel’s face. “Yeah, you’ll have the big family and I can be the weird uncle.”

                Miguel doesn’t say anything, just gives a tense laugh and drops the subject. But that night, Miguel won’t let go of him, heart racing. Tulio kisses the top of his head, and he knows it’s not what Miguel wants, but eventually, reality will ensue, right?

                This can’t last forever.

 

~5~

                Maybe it’s the rush, or maybe it’s jealousy over Chel, Tulio doesn’t know. But the night after Miguel’s ‘first commandment’, Tulio’s pinned to the wall again, and this time, neither of them are drunk, neither of them are trying to distract the other, and there’s no excuses.

                “Kiss me,” Miguel whispers.

                Tulio can’t decide what to do. But at the end of the day, he _wants_ to, and that is endlessly terrifying. “I – I can’t.”

                “Why not?” Miguel presses flush to him, and Tulio can feel the ridge in his pants, the need, a need that Miguel has _never_ been ashamed of. Unlike him. “We’re not in Spain. Nobody here is going to _care,_ even if they find out.”

                This is all true. It’s all true. So Tulio kisses him, and puts the shame to the side, tries to let himself _be happy,_ and pulls at Miguel’s clothes. Then they’re naked together in the temple, sunburn and bug bites and scars all on full display and nothing else matters, nothing except needing Miguel inside him, Miguel’s hand on his throat, a world full of Miguel and nothing else.

                Miguel whispers, “You belong to me,” into Tulio’s ear, and Tulio can’t help the shudder of pleasure. There’s no hiding from it, not now. Partners or lovers, criminals or gods. He can’t live without this.

                But afterwards, after Miguel has showered him in attention and fallen asleep next to him, Tulio gets up, gets dressed and stares into the pool water. He wonders if it matters that his father wouldn’t recognize him, or if it’s just another of those things that you carry around when you start taking the law as a suggestion, or if he’s just looking for excuses.

                _What are you so afraid of?_ He asks himself.

                He doesn’t have an answer – except, perhaps, that if he tries to hold the sun, he’ll get burned, and it’ll be nobody’s fault.

 

~6~

                Tulio is _exhausted._ They’ve just lost all their gold (except for the bags that he pinned to the inside of his trousers, he’s not _stupid)_ , rammed a boat into stone pillars, and watched their archenemy get dragged off to certain death after the most exciting thrill ride he never wants to take again.

                But – they’re _out._ No more pretenses. No more ‘we will be like as unto gods’. Miguel might have liked it, but Tulio can’t _stand_ trying to keep up long cons.

                Speaking of Miguel…

                He lifts his head and stares up at both Miguel and Chel, who are busy giggling and hugging each other in exhilaration. The image of having to sail away, Miguel left on the shore, is emblazoned in his head. A warning. A promise. A sign.

                “Hey,” he murmurs. They don’t hear him at first, and he takes a moment to appreciate it, the two of them getting along like they did at the beginning, and for the first time he thinks, _this is possible._

He gets to his feet. “Miguel…”

                Miguel turns to look at him, smile dropping a little. “Y-yeah?” For a moment, he’s the scared egg-thief again, eyes deer-wide and pale.

                Tulio takes a few steps forward, tries to find the words, then settles for a kiss, hand tangling in Miguel’s hair, lips gentle and apologetic. Then he kisses Miguel’s forehead, pulls him into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

                Miguel buries his face into Tulio’s shirt, and for a moment Tulio isn’t sure, then he realizes Miguel is crying. It’s the first time he’s ever really seen him cry, but he strokes his hair anyway, trying to comfort him. “I promise we can get that farm together, or whatever you want-“

                “Stop _talking!_ ” Miguel complains. Tulio just laughs gently in response.

                It’s Chel’s turn to look nervous, and Tulio reaches out a hand. “Don’t worry. You’re still coming with us.”

                So Chel takes his hand, and Miguel wraps his fingers into his other one, and Tulio feels it – the recognition of the truth, that this is always how it was meant to be.


End file.
